"So confused, my hearts bruised, was I ever loved by you?"
Opening my eyes from my almost sleepless night, I hear peaceful breathing from behind me. For a moment I feel well-rested. Just for a moment. Believing everything is okay in my world, because it was all just some terrible dream. It's only when I focus on the unfamiliarity of the room that I'm in when it all comes back.
He didn't show up. He doesn't love you.
Turning over to face the other way, my eyes focus on the half nàked man in the bed. At least, I hope he's half nakëd. Vic really took me by surprise last night. He listened to me while I cried to him about what my life has become, and seemingly for the first time since meeting him, he didn't ask for anything in return. He even respected my 'cushion wall' I imposed to prevent him from touching me in my sleep.
Looking at him while he sleeps allows me to see him in a new light. He's better looking than I initially thought. I always knew him to be a good looking guy, but his personality was definitely a turn off that overrode all. I prefer my men to be more humble and loving, and all the things he isn't. Or wasn't?
Stirring slightly in his sleep, his forehead creases, and while his eyes remain closed, he speaks.
"Enjoying the view, are we?" he says aloud, ever so sure of himself, even if he is joking.
Saying nothing in reply, I sit up in bed, still fully clothed from what I was wearing the night before, only I'm probably in a much more sorry state. Getting up, I find a floor length mirror to check the damage, and it's much worse than initially thought. My mascara is certainly no longer where I first applied it. Instead it's chosen to smear itself underneath my eyes, causing me to look like I've been punched in both eyes.
"Thanks for having me," I say, turning around to face him. "I don't know what came over me."
"You have nothing to apologise for," he informs me, sitting up in bed. The sheets fall lower, revealing more of his upper torso, and I look away. "He's the one who should be ashamed, not you."
The way in which he says the last sentence cuts through me like a knife. I know that he's somewhat right, but all I want to do is defend Harry, and brush over what he did. I know it's wrong of me to feel this way, but I need time to absorb everything that's happened. I know I'll have to move on, but I'll do it in my time, and when I'm ready.
"I know," I say, offering him a smile. "By the way, do you have the number of a taxi service?"
"Don't be silly, I can take you. At least have breakfast first. I'll get my housekeeper to make you something."
Leaning over to an intercom system, he speaks into it.
"Mina, can I please get some breakfast in here for two. Pancakes, fruit, some poached eggs on rye, and-"
"No," I say firmly, cutting off his sentence. "I mean, no thank you. I have a lot to do today," I lie. "I'd rather just get home."
"Please, I insist," he tries, and I politely shake my head.
"Thank you, but not this time. I'll just catch a taxi and be out of your way."
Getting up, he reveals he was indeed wearing underwear as he walks to his enormous walk-in closet, that puts anyone else's to shame. I catch a glimpse of particular details, and almost feel a sense of annoyance. Celia and I used to always laugh about Vic, and suggest that he was definitely compensating for something. It turns out we were wrong. Very wrong indeed.
"Give me a minute, and I'll take you," he offers, and I feel like I don't really know the person I shared a bed with last night. I only knew him as the cocky, arrogant bàstard he was... or is, but this guy isn't the same. Which part of him is real?
We go back and forth with the polite 'you don't have to!' and 'I insist,' and the 'are you sure?' game before I accept that he's taking me home. We exit his beautiful suite in an elevator, where he leads me over to his Audi R8 that's parked in his building's underground car park. As we drive out of the garage, we see a number of awaiting paparazzi waiting outside, just waiting to get the valuable 'walk of shame' shot to infer that we'd indeed slept together the night before. I'm very thankful they don't seem to notice us as we drive away.
"Do you mind if I charge my phone?" I ask, grabbing his charger and doing it anyway. "My battery is completely dead."
Laughing, he waves his hand. "Go right ahead. Though it's 50p per minute," he jokes.
"I'm not really used to such shocking weather for the first day of the year," I admit conversationally. Ironically, the weather is portraying my current mood, so it's only fitting.
"That's London for you, love."
No matter how much I go over the break up in my mind, I still can't seem to explain what happened, or even why it happened. Harry and I genuinely were very happy. People that knew both of us would look to our relationship with a sense of unreserved jovial envy, and we knew what we had was rare. The sort of love you're not looking for, but cannot be ignored. But then, like an object he no longer has use of, he discarded me. I wasn't what he wanted anymore, and he cut me out of his life for his own convenience. I wonder if that would have been worse than a relationship that slowly dies. A relationship where each of you can feel the looming end date. I believe that without a doubt, it's much worse when you don't see it coming. If I felt it coming, then perhaps I could have at least prepared myself. You wouldn't need to spend all your waking hours dedicated to searching for signs or clues that you might have missed throughout the time shared together. You don't spend time asking questions that you know you'll never get the answers to, and instead are expected to just accept things as they are. But what if I don't want to accept it?
"What's on your mind?" he asks me, looking over briefly to make eye contact with me.
"Nothing," I reply, shaking my head. "Why?"
"It's just that you looked really sad. Whatever it was, it's probably not worth your worries."
I offer him a small, tight lipped smile, thankful for his newfound friendliness. Far from what I expected from him, and quite refreshing that he hasn't hit on me, or even offered me cocaine for that matter.
"Just up here on the right," I direct, pointing to the house on the corner for him to drop me off.
Slowing, he looks at me strangely, with a quizzical expression.
"You do realise I've been to your house before, right?" he smiles, quite amused by my comment.
Who could forget the eventful un-birthday of Celia's where Vic challenged Harry in a very primal manner. Then of course there was the flower delivery too.
"Oh right, you have," I agree. "It must be that thing your brain does when you go through something traumatic. What's it called again? Suppression?"
"Very funny, didn't realise you were a comedian," he comments, pulling up to my house.
Not saying anything, I offer him a genuine smile, not sure of what exactly to say.
"Thanks for last night," I begin, "and for taking me here. I shouldn't have gone in the first place."
"Well I'm glad you did," he acknowledges, his eyes directed straight into mine, like pools of rich chocolate.
Why hadn't I noticed them before?
"Did you want me to walk you inside?" he offers, unbuckling his seatbelt.
"No, no, I'll be right," I answer automatically, "but thank you."
Leaning over, I kiss him lightly on the cheek to say goodbye, and as I walk up the garden path to the house, I can't help but feel his eyes on me the entire time. Getting to the front door, I offer him a small wave, before stepping inside to an absolute mess. Clothes are scattered all over the furniture, and right in the middle of it all is Celia.
"You're alive," she remarks joyously, seeming visibly happy to see me. "I wondered where you went off to. I tried looking for you and calling you, but had no luck. What's the story?"
Where do I start?
"It's a long one," I admit, thinking back. "If I remember correctly it might involve crying in the bathroom to Margot Robbie, and then somehow ending up at Vic's place."
Eyes wide, I now have her full attention, though I hold up my hand to make a point.
"To clarify, nothing happened between me and him," I express straightforwardly.
"But did you want it to?" she winks, encouraging the idea.
"God no," I laugh, vehemently shaking my head. "Though he was a gentleman for a change. Have you noticed him behaving differently as of late?"
"Sort of," she contributes. "Someone told me they think he's off the coke. And he doesn't really associate with the people he used to do it with."
"New Year, new Vic?" I laugh. "By the way, I have to ask - what happened in here?" I exclaim, trying to take it all in. "It's like a tornado has attacked your wardrobe."
"Packing," she answers without looking up. She appears to be on a mission as she rifles through piles of clothes that probably only make sense in her mind. "Or trying to."
"Looks it," I laugh, setting my keys down on the kitchen bench. "Where are you going?"
Looking at me curiously for a moment, she cocks her head to the side.
"With you silly. To Mauritius. Or have you forgotten already?"
To be honest, it hasn't exactly been at the forefront of my mind with all things considered.
"No... I just thought with recent events that it might not be a good idea anymore. But by all means, have someone go with my ticket. You shouldn't let it go to waste."
"Ludicrous," she exclaims. "I'm not taking no for an answer. You arranged this holiday for me when I was going through my boy troubles, and now I'm taking you on it because of yours."
I don't like that she compares her unhealthy relationship to mine. They're not the same thing, and can't be grouped in the same sentence. Yes, I was hurt, but we were great when we were together. It's just the whole 'being apart' thing that I detest.
"Celia," I start. I don't even get to tell her that I'm not in the mood for it, and it's best if I stay, before she interrupts.
"Don't Celia me," she mimics. "I'm doing this because you're my friend and this is what friends do for one another."
"Celia," I try again, but it's no use.
"I'm not taking no for an answer. Our driver will be here at 7 tomorrow morning!"
Sighing, I drop the issue for now. I don't have any intention of going, but there doesn't seem to be any point in trying to reason with her.
"So tell me more about last night. I tried looking for you, but you must have already left."
"Well yeah, I ran into Niall, and he kind of expressed that Harry wouldn't be showing up. It kind of hit me extra hard, and so I went into the girl's bathroom where Vic followed me in. He was actually quite nice about it, surprisingly."
"That's funny, because I ran into him, but you weren't with him. What time did you say you left?"
"Uh... Hard to say. A little past 11," I answer, taking one of Celia's caftan's that are strewn over the chair, and neatly fold it.
"Oh, that's weird," she comments, picking haphazardly at her fingernail.
"Weird? Why?" I enquire, stopping everything I'm doing to better listen.
"Nothing, I just thought I ran into Vic around then."
Oh, for fück's sake.
"You've got to be fücking kidding me," I mutter underneath my breath.
"What is it?" she enquires.
"I asked Vic to look for you. I asked him to get you when I was upset, and he said your phone was dead and he couldn't find you anywhere."
"How bizarre," she comments, waving it away. "I wonder why he did that."
"Obviously it was to get me to go home with him," I start, before I start pacing the kitchen. "Do we have any wine left?"
"There should be a bottle in the wine rack. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm. He was probably just trying to get you out of harms way."
"Thinking back, he probably planted the paparazzi outside his house too," I add, ignoring her prior comments as I uncork a nice bottle we've been saving. Taking a swig out of the bottle, I walk in the direction of my bedroom.
"Ivy, I don't think that's a great idea."
Stopping, I give her a look. A look that is openly offended by the idea that I can't simply have a drink.
"Oh really," I scoff with a sardonic expression. "I think I'm right Celia," I state, unable to remove the coldness from my tone.
"Ivy, I just mean with everything you're going through. I don't think wine is going to solve any of your problems."
"I'm fine," I reply back, with gritted teeth. "I'm not some child that needs to be lectured."
"I know you're hurting, but I promise you that it's going to get better," she assures me, but what does she know about love? "Harry lied to you and you deserve to move on."
"Trust me Celia, if I wanted love advice from you, I'd ask, but don't wait around."
She stands there in shock, opening and closing her mouth slowly as she tries to comprehend what I've said, but the damage is done. I can tell I've hurt her feelings.
"Celia, I'm sorry," I say, tears forming. "That was cruel, I genuinely didn't mean it. I just don't know how to deal with this anymore," I cry, feeling my emotions spilling out of my very pores. "You don't understand how empty I feel without him. I lie awake at night just waiting for him to call me, and he doesn't. He doesn't call. I've dialled his number hundreds of times, only to listen to his stupid bloody voice that my body is so desperately craving."
"Ivy," she sighs, feeling incredibly sorry for me.
"Celia, I don't know what to do anymore. I'm hurting so much, I'm positive that my soul is surely bleeding, because of how much pain I'm in. I just want it all to go away."
Taking me in her arms, she envelops me into an embrace, attempting to keep me safe from all of the bad things. In this case, it's Harry.
"I want to tell you something that a good friend once told me. I'm surely going to butcher it, and I know it's not what you want to hear, but he doesn't care about you. He doesn't even think about you at night, and he doesn't see your face in a crowded room. He's forgotten the colour of your eyes, even though he's told you he's never seen anything as beautiful. He doesn't talk about you and how badly he misses you, he doesn't remember what it's like to kiss your lips. He doesn't love you anymore, I'm so sorry."
Sobbing, my heart aches, as she recites something that I once read aloud to her in hopes I could ensure she faces reality, but also for her as a prompt to try to move on. This doesn't apply to me. Doesn't she know that what I'm going through is so much worse?
I continue to cry, knowing that I'm going to endure yet another sleepless night. If someone had told me even a week ago that I would be crying myself to sleep every night, screaming until my throat burns like fire. Though Harry was like my fire. I used to think fire was a good thing. We had enough passion that could burn for what I believed would be an eternity. It turns out that all it took for him to leave was a gust of wind, blowing him in the direction of the next soul he can destroy. He built me up in passion fuelled romance, and then burnt me to the ground. Though everyone knows what remains after a fire.
Ash.
I don't know how much time has passed, but Celia leaves me there on my bed, with the understanding that I've fallen asleep. Taking my phone off the bedside table, I dial a number I've called hundreds of times.
"Hey, it's me. Please leave a message, and I'll get back to you."
Repeat.
Author's Note: What are your thoughts on Vic, and do you think that he is genuine in his interactions, or just trying to get in Ivory's pants? It's also so hard as a Hivory shipper to write her so heartbroken, especially because she's in such a dark place at the moment. I know Ebony was in a different situation, though Ivory was completely blindsided and that must have come as such a terrible shock to her. Dedication this week goes to Shygirl_Styles for her lovely comment below. I love when people recognise major and minor character developments.
Okay, enough small talk, but SO much has happened since my last update! Concert tickets? Did anyone get them? I managed to get both Australian shows plus New Zealand, but ended up giving my Sydney one away because it wouldn't have felt right to see him when so many people will miss out! The only way I could justify myself going to NZ was because their concert holds more people. Still in shock I got Melbourne at all, considering there's only 1,500 tickets in total. My boyfriend ended up surprising me and getting two tickets as well as mine, so they ended up going to very hard core Harry fans, I assure you. If you're going, please comment me which shows. Maybe some of you can meet up together and dance along to his album.
And OH MY GOD THE ALBUM!!! His album was designed for my actual soul. What are your favourite songs? I think Sign of the Times is still my all time favourite because of how incredible it is. Meet Me in the Hallway, From the Dining Table, Woman, Two Ghosts, and Kiwi. By the way, can we all laugh about how much Kiwi relates to Ebony's POV? Especially if you just read the latest chapter out on Radish. It's insane.
Anyways, that's enough from me!
14/05/17 | 1.13M Views |
The lyrical quote at the beginning of the chapter originated from the song 'Out of Reach' by Gabrielle